Running to stand still
by Kay Taylor
Summary: SHORT. A Percy character study, set during OotP. Implied PercyBill.


Sometimes it seems as though Percy's been running to keep up his whole life, though Percy doubts that anyone in his family could imagine him running; the twins have never tired of teasing their studious brother, about as far removed from the easy athleticism of Bill, Charlie and themselves as it's possible to be. And now Ron and Ginny have made the Quidditch team (he hears about it in prim little folded notes from Dolores, and he crumples them into angry fist-sized lumps on his desk, squeezing until his knuckles turn white, because even Bill, even fucking _Bill_ plays some sort of sport out in Africa, something with hooped sticks and flying shuttlecocks that their Dad can't even pronounce), and there's another thing Percy will never be able to catch up with.

So he bends his head, and gets down to his work, licking the tip of his quill and tasting feathers and dust. This, after all, is something where he's running ahead of the pack for once, ahead of Dad with his nowhere-no-way prospects of promotion, far ahead of Bill and Charlie with their do-gooder jobs in countries without a decent Floo system.

He couldn't be the athletic one, or the responsible older one - though he tried for the latter, really he did, but it was easy to see that for all he shouted at the first years and stopped people from running in the corridors, it was a badge they were stopping for, not Percy. Bill had written to him all through that year, and his letters piled up on a desk already covered with the ten leather-bound volumes of the Hogwarts Rules, and extra bedtime reading about the development of Floo in the eighteenth-century, and the scrolls of parchment he'd had printed with 'Percy Weasley - Hogwarts Head Boy', though he never actually used them.

Except to write back to Bill, of course, and he took his time over each and every line, pausing to touch the tip of the quill to his lips.

Because a successful politician reads between the lines, and though he knew that Bill didn't think he was giving much away, the letters only showed up the distance between Bill, first-Head-Boy-in-the-family and himself, second-Head-Boy-doesn't-look-as-good-in-the-badge-as-Bill-did. For every _you might want to ease up on them a bit, Perce, they're only first years_, there was a _but standards have to be maintained, you understand, I don't want to be seen as an 'easy touch' in my own House_. For every time Bill didn't mention a girlfriend - and Percy never supposed that Bill had time for a girlfriend, what with all that _treasure hunting_ he got up to - Percy mentioned Penelope three times himself.

Even after they'd broken up.

But the letter from Dolores unsettles Percy, somehow. So much so that he sits in his attic that night, looking through the rain as it paints itself onto his window in great angry droves, with a quill and parchment in front of him. Parchment that still reads 'Percy Weasley - Hogwarts Head Boy', because he's dug it out from under his bed, and it's only slightly rumpled and torn at the corners. And he thinks about Bill, who he hasn't spoken to since the Quidditch World Cup, and then only briefly; a stiff inquiry into the state of the Wizarding World in Egypt, and a hand on his shoulder, easily shrugged off.

He thinks about Bill, and the fact that he's _wasting_ his entire life away, off to seek treasure and his fortune. And he remembers how Bill has never mentioned a girlfriend, when surely his obligations must be less, so much less, than Percy's. And he thinks of Bill's first letter, back when Percy received the badge in the post; it had started _Congratulations Percy! Another Head Boy in the family! I know you probably don't want advice, but -_

Being Head Boy was never something he had to himself, because it was shared with Bill. Bill with the long red hair and the blue eyes.

And being Percy was never something he had to himself, either, but that doesn't matter any more. He'd shared it with Bill, not knowingly, not willingly, but shared it nonetheless.

And he wonders about that never-present girlfriend now, more than anything. And the weight of Bill's long hair in his hands, and how it would feel just to _pull - _

He picks up his quill, and writes the first line in clear, hard strokes.__

Dear Bill. I know it will be a surprise for you to hear from me.


End file.
